


Hide Out Till Tomorrow

by annemari



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-17
Updated: 2012-09-17
Packaged: 2017-11-14 11:40:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/514840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annemari/pseuds/annemari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mikey's fast asleep, snoring softly, covered from head to toe, only his nose peeking out. Gerard would be mad at him for stealing the blankets and therefore waking him, but fuck, it's Mikey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hide Out Till Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Cotton Candy Bingo, for the prompts "hogging the blankets" and "belly rub". Thank you to **anoneknewmoose** for looking this over for me! Title from _Wasted Daylight_ by Stars.

Gerard's dreaming about Hoth. He's not really dreaming about anything specific, though. He's just on Hoth and it's fucking freezing. He can't see anything but the snow, and fucking hell, he's not even wearing _shoes_ , what the fuck is up with that. 

He wraps his arms around himself and keeps trudging through the snow. Surely he'll come across something soon—a building, _anything_. Maybe a Tauntaun. Maybe Mikey will come and rescue him. He's freezing in his jeans and leather jacket, and it's getting harder to keep walking because he's fucking _barefoot_.

He only gets to take a couple of more steps before he's slipping and falling and tries to grab onto something, but there's nothing but snow everywhere, and it's so cold—

Gerard gasps awake. He's in bed, next to Mikey, and he's still cold. The A/C is relentless, blowing cold air on him, because he doesn't have a fucking blanket. He turns his head to the side and sees that Mikey has commandeered all the covers, is curled up under them.

He looks at the clock and groans—it's barely eight fucking am. He was pretty tired last night, so he went to bed early, but fuck, eight in the morning is still too fucking early. He remembers he heard Mikey slip in at some point during the night, but he has no idea what time it could have been.

Mikey's fast asleep, snoring softly, covered from head to toe, only his nose peeking out. Gerard would be mad at him for stealing the blankets and therefore waking him, but fuck, it's Mikey.

Mikey sleeps with less clothes on than Gerard, anyway, even though he gets cold a lot more easily. It doesn't really make sense as a thing, but it makes sense as a Mikey thing. So Gerard's not mad. He's just cold and in need of coffee.

Gerard listens to Mikey's breathing for a while, before he gets out of bed. He throws on a bathrobe and puts on slippers, then trudges into the kitchen. He stops to fiddle with the A/C, turns the temperature up a bit.

He makes coffee, gets himself a cup, and settles down on the high chair next to the window. The sun is up already, but he can see rain clouds moving closer. It hasn't rained for about a week, so he guesses it's about time. Maybe it will break the heat wave.

They'd planned on going out today—Gerard wanted to check out the new art store that opened close by before it got too crowded, but they'd planned for ten or so. Now, with the storm clouds coming in, he's wondering whether they should get going earlier.

He sips at his coffee for a bit, while staring out the window, before he makes the decision. Mikey will probably be cranky at being woken up this early—especially if he got in late—but if they get there fast they can be back home before noon. Probably.

He pours Mikey a cup and refills his own, then heads back into the bedroom.

Mikey's still asleep, hasn't moved. Gerard sets the cups down on the bedside table and sits down on the bed. He gently nudges Mikey's shoulder. "Mikey. Coffee." 

Mikey doesn't stir; usually the scent of coffee alone is enough to wake him up. Gerard pulls the covers down enough so he can properly see Mikey's face. His eyes are closed, his eyebrows drawn together. He looks pained. 

"Mikey?" Gerard says again, more worried this time. "Hey, Mikeyway. Wake up."

It takes a bit, but then Mikey blinks his eyes open and breathes out roughly. "Gee? What time is it?"

"Early," Gerard says. "Are you okay?"

Mikey just blinks at him slowly. There's still a crease on his forehead, his face pinched.

"Hey," Gerard says and gently brushes Mikey's hair back from his forehead, rubs his thumb over the crease between his eyebrows. "What hurts?"

Mikey closes his eyes again and shakes his head.

"Mikey," Gerard says. Mikey hardly ever complains when something's actually bothering him, just about hangovers and stuff, and that hasn't happened in a while. He says he doesn't want to worry Gerard when he's really feeling sick, which is so fucking ridiculous, but that's Mikey for you. Gerard just has to pry it out of him. "Come on, tell me."

Mikey sighs and pushes the covers down to his chest, turns to lie on his back. He rests his left hand on his stomach and lets the other lie on the pillow. Gerard starts absentmindedly tracing the lines on his palm.

"I'm fine," Mikey says, staring at the ceiling. "Just a stomachache."

Gerard makes a sympathetic sound and reaches out to stroke Mikey's hair. "I think I heard you come in during the night. Did you go to a party?"

"No," Mikey says. "I hung out with Gabe and Nate. We talked, watched movies. I don't know, maybe it was something I ate."

"Do you feel like you're gonna be sick?"

Mikey shakes his head. "Just hurts. It's fine."

Gerard wants to point out that it's obviously not _fine_ , but before he gets the chance, Mikey sighs and looks at him.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I know you wanted to go to that new art store, but—" He cuts off and winces, pulls his knees up. He stays like that only for a moment before turning back to his side.

"Hey, no," Gerard says, running his fingers through Mikey's hair and down the side of his face. Truthfully, he'd forgotten all about that. "Don't worry about it. We can go some other day."

"Okay," Mikey says, sounding small, and Gerard frowns.

"Do you want anything? Water? Medicine?"

Mikey shrugs, then shakes his head again. "I think I'm just gonna try to go back to sleep."

"You sure?" Gerard asks.

"I'm really fine," Mikey says, meeting Gerard's eyes. "I'll just sleep it off. You don't have to worry."

Gerard huffs, and leans down to press a kiss to Mikey's forehead. He traces his fingers over Mikey's jawline, says, "Tell me if you feel any worse, okay."

Mikey nods tersely, but he turns his head and kisses Gerard's palm, before pulling the blankets up again.

Gerard gets up to get his laptop, then settles back in bed, sitting up against the pillows. He goes through his e-mail, replies to some work-related stuff before checking his personal one. Frank sent him a link that eventually leads him to TV tropes, the asshole, and he loses some time there. 

He drinks both his and Mikey's coffee—no need to waste any. Mikey's a comforting presence beside him, and even though Gerard fucking hates early mornings, it's not so bad spending them in bed with Mikey right next to him. They don't always get to do that, and he really hates that Mikey's not feeling well right now.

His feet get cold after a while so he shuffles around and tries to stick them under the blankets. They brush Mikey's calves and Mikey hisses and jerks away from the touch.

"Sorry," Gerard says, turning his gaze to Mikey. "Thought you were sleeping."

Mikey glares at him from under the covers. "Maybe I was."

Gerard shrugs and rubs his foot against Mikey's leg. "Are you feeling any better?"

Mikey looks away, doesn't meet Gerard's eyes. Gerard sighs and closes the laptop, places it on the bedside table. He lifts up the covers—Mikey's still curled up, arms wrapped around his belly—and lies down. 

"Come on, turn over," he says, touching Mikey's shoulder.

Mikey flips over, and lets out a low grunt of pain. Gerard frowns sadly and pulls the covers over them, and shuffles close to Mikey. 

Gerard runs his hand over Mikey's thigh, his lower abdomen, before tangling his fingers with Mikey's. He pulls Mikey's hand away from where it's protectively resting on his belly and slips his own hand under Mikey's shirt and settles it on his stomach.

Mikey makes a soft noise and cuddles back against Gerard's chest. Mikey's stomach is firm to the touch, and Gerard presses in gently, coaxing him to relax. 

"How's this?" Gerard asks quietly.

Mikey hums. "Good. Feels nice."

Gerard starts rubbing in earnest and it's not long before Mikey's breathing evens out. Gerard keeps trailing his fingers over Mikey's stomach and smiles when he feels Mikey's body relax. He presses a kiss to the back of Mikey's neck and curls further around Mikey, his hand resting on Mikey's belly, and listens to him breathe.


End file.
